The Super Mix-A-Lot Mix-Up Fanfic
by ddog Le 2346
Summary: Yep, this doesn't immediately have to do with Seto and Ren, but I just decided to add ANOTHER fanfic to the short list of good humor stories here. This time, Sir Sir Mix-A-Lot (Yes, he has now been knighted) and that OC Guy defend people in court, while Seto and PF Changs (My little nickname for "Her." Who knew all you needed were BATTERIES!) investigate the same cases for them.
1. Chapter 1

Super Mix-A-Lot Mix-Up Fanfic!

ddog Le 2346 was sitting at his very crappy computer late one night, trying to think of the topic of his next 2 fanfics. "I nedz ta get twro mur Fan Fictions show I kin beh Beta Reader awrnds Community Manager orehv Fraggle Dreams curmmernutiahr," ddog said, in his most realistic voice. He was obviously high, drunk, both, or just crazy at this point in time, and he doesn't really know what the f*** is happening at all. Then, all of the sudden, Sir Mix-A-Lot pops up (This guy is actually real) and starts singin and stuffz. Then Sonic shows up (He is obviously NOT real) and starts making out with Mr. Yellow Cake. Then our descent into utter madness and chaos begins...

First, ddog started using PARAGRAPH SPACING! (How? I mean, how does he know of this... witchcraft?) Then characters started popping up by the thousands! Neon, Mario, Team NOPE, MLP cast, I MEAN BY THE THOUSANDS! After that came the worlds. Holy crap, there was a lot of worlds. And that was just Mario worlds! My GOD there was a lot of crap, enough to fill an entire universe with existence. Then Daft Punk came and everything made sense again. The entire fictional universe started to set itself at the edges of the real universe, creating a kind of inverted sphere that expanded as fast as the universe. Then all of the space in between was filled partially by all of the actual matter in space. "The Gorak is REAL!" AOO (That's me) cried, my assumed eyes filling up with tears of joy as I heard the Song of Creation, which is Voyager by you know who da f*** Daft Punk is. ddog couldn't believe his also assumed eyes: he had created an entire universe to base his story in. But of course he's just gonna make ANOTHER crossover, throw in a Transdimensional Pewds, and call it an acceptable chapter.

He knew better than anyone that there needed to be a main character. This was a couple of hours after he sobered up/drank a sanity potion, so he was back to his usual, lazy-as-f*** self. He looked around to assemble the necessary team of story-leader people. He saw Sir Mix-A-Lot, Daft Punk, Seto, and Mr. Yellow Cake. This was going to be easy. "Uhh, Mix-A-Lot, I choose you!" ddog said, with Ash's hat on for no reason... " Get up here, Guy-Manuel..." ddog waited, "-inspired mech-armor person!" he finished, the poor Daft Punk half crying in the corner with Thomas next to him. "And now for my favorite person in history..." ddog was good at being a douche, " The last character is... lol tricked you there are no more main characters," yep, really good.

So with those two characters chosen, I'm sure that there are going to be no more he- I mean main characters involved with the story. Now the story will really begin...

Mix-A-Lot and OC Guy were sitting in their office, sipping on mocha chino, listening to a certain dance song by a certain duo, also stalking the cute accountant... Then, that one guy, you know, the one who gives you cases to solve. "You mean the receptionist, AOO?" said OC Guy, which I DID mean, and I DID know that! "Whatever... Anyways, what was it that you wanted?" said OC Guy, his epic mask that is totally unique shining in the sunlight. "It's Beyonce, guys! She's been accused of murder!" Mr. Yellow Cake- Wait, Yellow Cake? I thought there were no more main characters!Whose next, Se- What? He's our detective? Whatever, let's just post this first chapter already. "Anyways, we accept immediately," OC Guy said," even though we are in the middle of a case right now, in court, about to lose. I'm sure he'll be fine." SO they embarked on their quest to go prove Beyonce's innocence, save the world, and screw da rulez. Seto and PF Changs also did some stuff... And ddog was just lying face-down in a pile of RARE CARDS.


	2. Chapter 2

Super Mix-A-Lot Mix-Up Fanfic: Season 1, Episode 1, Part 2 (lol what is this? Pewds Plays The Wolf Among Us?)

As the duo (OC Guy and Anthony Ray aka Sir Mix-A-Lot) accepted the case, some guys across universe were singin some stuff, illegally. That's now a crime, apparently. Wait, this is in Totalitarian territory. That makes complete sense now. Anyways, they'll probably introduce some crime lords here. Hmmm, it doesn't look like mobsters... Hey, those are Corrops(Corrupt Cops)! Huh, I guess those are the main antagonists of the story. "Hey, you can't sing songs about your posse being on Broadway!" shouted Corrop Scout Zach, "I challenge you to a BATTLE!" " *sigh* Ugh, not AGAIN!" said Sting. * POKMON ENCOUNTER MOOSAC!* Corrop Scout Zach Wants To Battle! Corrop Scout Zach sent out MAH GUN! Go, The Police!(Irony) What will The Police do? "..." The Police used Don't Stand So Close To Me! It's Super Effective! MAH GUN fainted! "Because using music to combat a gun is obviously going to work 24/7." Sting won! (But he's still going to jail. STILL IRONY) Sting got 500p! "Eh, that's nice, I guess," Sting said as he was thrown into the back of the car. "Shut up, will ya? Seriously, it's hard enough to be a Corrop in these times, ya know?"

As the duo (Seto and PF Chang's) decided to take up the case. (Bam, Dependant Clause, people!) "Hmmm, this certainly sounds interesting enough," Seto said, with a random fedora. "It is not wise to eat broccoli, when it is poisoned," Said PF Chang's. "We'll accept!" Seto said, before PF Chang's could say anything else. "Ok, everything you need's in here," said Mr. Yellow Cake, as he handed them a breifcase. "What the- There's only a guy's soul in here!" Seto exclaimed, dropping the opened case. "Oh, wrong one. HERE'S the one ya want!" Mr. Yellow Cake replied, handing them another case. "Ok, I won't actually say what's in here, because I want to make this like a Quentin Tarantino movie," said Seto, and like a Quentin Tarantino movie it will be... HAHAHA!

"Ok, so close now, man!" said Sting, running for his freaking life from a van. "Just fall already, foolish mortal!" shouted Corrbot X-007, driving the van behind him. (Hey, I told you) Shooting a few rounds from his sniper rifle, Zenith failed to wreck any of the Corrbots, but did manage to disable the gun of the Corrbot shooting at Sting. Then Thunderstruck started playing. "Man, not AGAIN!" Zenith complained, but only because it was creepy that it followed him. First, it was Worlds Apart. Then Peace of Mind. "Oh, Good GORAK, MAKE IT STAHP!" Zenith screamed. He REALLY needed some Peace of Mind right now. (Semi-Pun intended.) So he got up, and ran. He ran like crazy, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, just to escape his musical torture. Then, finally, he had an idea. A plan, to end it all.

As he fell from the roof of the building, he thought it fit to write his will. It was, in fact, going to be a long ways down. Even though he knew he'd never finish, he felt he'd at least try. So, he got out his pen and his notebook, started writing, and found himself immersed in a whole new world. As he wrote, all of his worries of death and regrets just melted away. He wrote for such a long time, in fact, that after he finished his will, he found it strange that he wasn't already dead. As he looked around himself for answers, he found that time itself had slowed down so much, that he almost wasn't falling at all. Oh, but he was. Technically, he was falling very fast. In real time, that is. He decided to write an autobiography. When he finished the story of his life, he saw that he was still twenty stories from the ground. So, he took the time that it took to die, and committed it all to making just one more story. In this story, he put in all genre: Sci-fi, fantasy, romance, comedy, all of them. Years past was his youth, spent in a purgatory of sorts, not even a quarter's-way through. Even longer was his time in this world, then slowly learning that no way out had existed. He yearned for Death to finally come, to take him to his long-awaited fate, and he was nearly done. What was strange to him, he thought, was the fact that he hadn't had food in years, yet felt no hunger. Not a drink in ages, but felt no thirst. Before he finally did die, he thought, he'd at least finish his life's work, spent in what was in real time only seconds. As long as the work was, carried in such tiny pages, he couldn't bring himself a good enough ending. Nearing the sweet relief to a life tragically wasted, he started to panic. For once in what felt like his entire life, he didn't completely welcome the Reaper of Souls to himself. He frantically searched for a way to finish his book that would satisfy. "Ugh, screw this," said the author, his interest in his own creation suddenly gone. Then, he did what any sane author would do: just let Micheal Bay at it and see what would happen. So, this is what happened: As the man touched the ground, he exploded, because he's an alien. The end.


	3. Chapter 3

Super Mix-A-Lot Mix-Up Fanfiction! (The Day You Regret Forever... Is Probably Not Today.)

Zenith was a young fellow, straight out of School of Snipe, when he overheard two guys talking. (Hey, look! A Dialogue Exchange-So-I-Don't-Have-To-Describe-Everything Sequence!)

"So, you guys think thats that brain thingses, ya knowses, the ones with the telepathic tendencies's and et ceteras, is gonsas workses?"

"Oh, yeah! That project, that'll end the wars between humankind, because _OBVIOUSLY_ all wars are caused by not communicating very well."

"Yeseseseses, that'ses the ones!"

"Yeah, I think it's gonna work for like one day, then immediately kill 99% of the world's population. Well, at least JAPAN'S population."

"Yes's, that sounds like a compelling set-up for a video-gamses. They shoulds do'ses that!"

"Man, what's your problem, Goon Guy? You always got that word problem."

"Whats word prablehms, bawss?"

"You always gotta say things with an s at the end or with a really screwed-up Brooklyn accent."

"Oh yeahses, that words probehmls I goatse!

"... That's disgusting. Anyways, you didn't even pronounce problems correctly! Either that, or the author's trying to just blame his typos on characters..."

"Whatseses? How coulds that bayastahdses! I trusteds his!"

"Grammar, Goon Guy, grammar." After that stupidity was over, Zenith started worrying about his future. 'Man, what if I actually have to USE my sniping skills? I just planned on wasting tax-payers' money on teaching me a skill that can score me chicks!' he thought, right before immediately thinking about scantily-clad ladies for about half an hour. Then he got back on track. "Ok, ok. Gotta prepare for this apocalypse that is definitely gonna happen, because a random guy in an alley said it to his mentally-challenged friend." He said to himself, walking in to the gun store.

Seto and PF Chang's were investigating the murder. In an office. Boring paperwork stuff. ANYWAYS, EVERYBODY, I SAID IT GOES LIKE THIS: I was comin' Hom- I mean...

"So, have you found anything yet?"

"Not really. But I DID find this article on cranes, if that helps."

"... PF, making references to our game isn't gonna do anything. But making fun of it might." Seto and PF Chang's exchanged, then realizing that there's paperwork involved. "Oh, I mean... IT PUTS THE PAPERS IN THE BIN!" He then corrected, knowing that at any minute, AOO could unleash his semi-holy wrath upon him. PF Chang's didn't do anything,though, because she is an AI that needs his assistance to even move. "Oh, fine." Seto groaned, as he put the papers in the bin, like "IT" does. Then they proceeded like this for 3 weeks, until actual evidence was revealed.

"Why hello there, stranja! What're ya buyin'?" RE4 Merchant asked, opening his coat to reveal something Zenith wished he hadn't. "Oh, sh*t! That's the wrong side!" he shouted, quickly switching to his right-side A-Class Weapons Dealings. "Hey, it's hard being a merchant! So I skimp out on undergarments? It saves time, money, _and_ I can make my worries go all away for 3 minutes!" he said, winking. "Ummm, can I go report you for sexual assault now?" Zenith said, his mouth unfortunately gaping wide. "Oh, I meant the reaction when people see my disturbingly-deformed ****! I hope that didn't send the wrong message or anything! Please, don't go!" Merchant exclaimed, chasing after Zenith. "Oh, alright. What're ya sellin'?" Zenith said, deciding that he'll probably get a 'Don't Tell The Leons' discount. "Oh, take this crappy sniper rifle! Or, for $20 dollars MOAR, you can get this magical zappy-gun that kills not only the common mind-controlling parasite, but ALSO 99.9% of those pesky, deadly germs!" Merchant said, holding each choice in his hands. His cold, disturbing hands. "As appealing as the zappy-gun is, I'm gonna have to go with the sniper rifle." Zenith decided, grabbing the rifle from poor Robert's hands, sealing his fate for life. (And yes, Goldfield is a freaking genius.)

"Uh, is this supposed to be here?" Seto asked, referring to the bloody knife in the briefcase. "Um, yes. Yes it is. Totally not the cops overlooking obvious details or anything..." said Mr. Yellow Cake, very reluctantly. "Who did this briefcase belong to previously?" Seto questioned. "I believe a 'Mr. Halen. Van, Halen." Mr. Yellowcake said, right before Sonic showed up and complimented his cakey-figure. "Wait, who!?" 3 hours later, they were at the mansion of Imaginary Eddie Van Halen. That is, the Eddie Van Halen who isn't entirely accurate to the real rock legend. "And what brings YOUR kind to this establishment?" the guards interrogated some random blob creature. "Remember? I'm the guest?" the thing said in his defense. "Yeah, nice try. Get lost." The guards replied, waving him off. "Oh, you'll RUE the day you ever denied Rob Ford into Eddie Van Halen's Mansion!" the thing said, skulking off as he pulled some white dust out of his pocket. Anyways, Seto was a bit worried that he would have to pull out his badge and all that jazz just to meet Imaginary Van Halen, and get some questions in while he was at it. And so he tried. And failed, spectacularly. EVERYBODY, I SAID IT- I mean...

"Yo, I'm a cop!"

"Go away."

"Damn."

OC Guy and Sir Mix-A-Lot were reviewing the present evidence and investigating the actual scene of the crime. "Ok, let's go over what we've got so far." OC Guy said, picking up the file. He read it aloud, and this is what it said:

"Victim: Adolf "The Bows" Jackson

Cause of Death: Suffocation

With: Rope

In: The Living Room

Wait, That's Clue Terms. Here's A Description Of The Murder Scene:

Mr. Scatman was on the ground, covered in a blanket. There was red marks on his throat, signaling either a great struggle, pointing towards murder, or an immense amount of pressure applied, which would probably mean suicide. The victim was on the floor, however, and had a blanket neatly covering his entire body, which would require a second party involved. The blanket was examined, revealing fingerprints of both Macklemore and (Beyonce), thus the accusation towards Ms. Knowles that she was involved in the murder of Master Gee Hendrix Carter."- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

OC Guy read, and then said, " ... What? Why does it list all these different names?" A fellow investigations officer turned and answered the question quickly. "Oh, we don't actually know his name, so we gave him a bunch of random ones." OC Guy then replied, "Well, why did you do THAT?" "Because we were bored, man! Don't you have a sense of humor?" the officer said, frowning, then returning to his work. Sir Mix-A-Lot wasn't even five seconds later to question the guy. "Hey, what are you doing over there? Can I check?" He said, to which the officer agreed to. "Hmm, why is there blood right there?" Sir Mix-A-Lot pointed out, which made the investigator blush. "Oh, er, umm... Uhh... Yeah. You found new evidence."

"Oh, how lovely. That actually is nice, you know, helping someone get out of-"

"You know that that could be even more incriminating to Beyonce than the fingerprints, right?"

"... sh*t."

"Yeah. Anyways, why are you even pointing that out?" Ok, dialogue-only sequence over. "Well, I'm a trained professional. Yes, that's right. I get people dancing with both awesome music AND innocent verdicts." Anthony said, pulling out a whip. "Hey, why you gotta' whip?" The officer quickly questioned, freaking out. "Oh, I guess that not every day is a Baby Got Back day. I carry it around for the sound effects." he said, putting it back in his magical Bag of Trix. "Why not just use that sampler you have on your back?" the CSS asked. "It's not the same!" he exclaimed, getting back to OC Guy's investigation.

Zenith walked out of a Best Buy, wearing some Beats by Dr. Dre. "Ok, now that the classic rock cloud isn't following anymore, and I now look more stylish, I think I can progress a little more in the ways of helping out Sting." he said, forgetting how long he stood in line for. And the terrible customer service. Not that real Best Buy's customer service is bad, just that totalitarian shops kinda suck. Sting was long gone, maybe dead, maybe alive... **DEAD OR ALIIIIIVE**! Zenith was alone again... ... ... ... Yep...

... ... ...

Alone...

... ... ...

That's it...

... ... ...

Simple as that...

... ... ... Oh yeah, and now he's looking for the one. That's right, this turned from simple plot resolution into How I Met Your Mother. END OF 3

"So, how 'bout that? Is it enough to atone for my sins of writing The Trans-Dimensional Apocalypse yet?" Hell no! We still got at least 17 chapters to go! "...Sh*t. Well then, I guess I better make this a bit better." No, no, it builds suspense. "Really? Does it _really_ build suspense?" ... Chapter 3, everybody!


End file.
